


A Bus Full of Mundane Phenomenons

by Midge03



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Chan is Jisung’s father, Crack, F/M, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, Marching Band, Minho is an engineer, Minho just graduated, Protective Minho, aged down Jisung, aged up Chan, changbin is annoying, idk why, offstage smut?, toddler Jisung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midge03/pseuds/Midge03
Summary: Being cramped up on a bus overflowing with people was the last thing Minho wanted to spend his weekend doing, even if it was to meet his brother.Not even hours in however, he finds that his initial plan of hop on and hop off has been tampered with, namely by a very cute child, a boisterous teenager and a grumpy girl, as well as other tired and tiresome individuals.OR: Seven episodes which convert Minho to marching band life
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	A Bus Full of Mundane Phenomenons

Episode 1  
The bus was awfully overcrowded. Minho had known it would be a squish but having three people sharing two seats, the odd parents with two children on one lap, was a little too much. On the other hand, he wasn’t paying much so he’d have to take the compensation for that fact in the form of sitting balled up, feet planted on the seat of the chair because all the leg space was taken up by suitcases for the 18 hour journey they had just embarked upon. If he could, he’d have spent his hours gazing at the dusty evening sky but the window was caked with dirt and there was a pram leaning against the expanse of it. 

It was fairly noisy too. All the people in the bus seemed to know each other, and the crosstalk from one end to the other was a mighty force of its own, only wavering at the stern yells of a tracksuit clad, whistle blowing woman with short cropped hair and a stern mouth.

“Bloody good at shutting people up ain’t she?” came a voice. Minho looked up to see who it was.

There was a boy who looked just a tad younger than Minho himself, sitting in the seat in front with his head turned to face him. His straw coloured hair made soft spikes on his head and there was a pair of large rimmed glasses perched on his long nose. Despite this though, the boy was fairly intimidating looking, with thin eyes and a heavy accent straight out of the damp, glass bottle littered alleyways of city slums.

“Yeah... she’s good,” replied Minho, wary of what he assumed to be a friendly conversation.

“Never thought I’d join a damn marching band but here I am,” said the boy, “All cause of her.”

“Huh? Marching band?” asked Minho, looking at the boy with furrowed eyebrows. So that was why it had been so cheap and so damn hard to get a seat- it wasn’t even an official coaster. 

And marching bands were still a thing?

“Yeah- wait are you telling me you just hopped on this bus with zero fucking context,” the boy said, nudging the person sitting next to him. “Get that Hye, he didn’t know he was on a bus with a marching band.” The person he’d nudged stirred, before groaning and turning round to look at him.

It was a girl, with a pretty, bored looking face and black hair in tight waves. Her skin was white and her cheeks puffy, dark brown eyes filled with bitter sleep and sweet murder.

“Yeah fucking good for him now if you disturb me one more time Changbin then your head will be rolling with the drums.” And with that, she receded back into her slumber, not giving Minho even a second to sum her up.

“Frightful witch she is,” said the boy poking her promptly. “Anyways, welcome on board- uh- what’s your name?”

“Minho.”

“Welcome on board Minho. And just letting you know, marching band life isn’t really as bad as you think.”

“Right, thanks,” said Minho as the boy, Changbin, turned away. He didn’t really think of marching band life on a daily, he didn’t even know it was a way of living, or that they hopped onto busses on the regular, so the knowledge only left him with more questions and a headache from the rising noise levels.

Episode 2  
It felt like a trip to the zoo. Or the end of the world. A strange combination of both actually. They’d been in here for four hours now, and Minho’s legs were starting to adopt a form of numb ache which he’d had to accept as a part of the rest of the journey. The buzz of the people had started to diminish, however, and through his previous few hours of passive observation he felt he’d also come pretty close to figuring out what marching band life actually was. 

It seemed, to him, to be a mixture of authoritative displeasure from a woman with close cropped red hair, large antiqued earrings and a tweed jacket, and constant enthusiasm and stern discipline from the whistle woman. A few yells of “Oi Patty, you moron,” and “shut the bloody hell up Changbin,” gave him a few hints on the dynamics of the band members too. They were all sorts of ages, the youngest being only nine and the oldest a sombre looking man who claimed the band had saved him from purgatory. To that Changbin had nodded fitfully, claiming that the man had killed someone once upon a time before his redemption or whatever.

One thing that seemed to be clear to Minho, however, was that tonight was going to be fitful and restless. It wasn’t like he slept well on the regular but most of the times he had a bed. Despite this, however, Minho found himself dozing off and by and by, fell asleep.

Episode 3  
When he woke up he thought it’d have been ten am, sun blazing in while he restlessly tried to catch another hour of sleep, but it wasn’t. The fact that he was, in reality, in a bus came lighter than the knowledge that the sun wasn’t even fully up yet, and that the reason he was awake was because of a toddler who’s morning routine was award-winningly early. The brunette boy was on the lap of someone sitting next to Minho, most likely the child’s father, and was tugging at the man’s sleeve. 

The man looked young and had white curly hair and large bags under his eyes, having been deep in sleep only moments ago. Now, however, he was stirring slightly from the disturbance, his sleep eventually breaking as the child sat back in satisfaction, glad to have his father’s attention.

“Oh lord, it’s quite early isn’t it,” groaned the man, before readjusting himself and his son.

“I want to sit by the window Dad,” the child said.

“What’s that?” asked the man, half asleep still.

“The window, I want to sit by the window.”

“The window?”

“Yes.”

“Well you’ll have to wait till morning for that Jisung.”

“But-“

“The morning okay? There’s only a couple of hours left.”

“I want to sit there now.”

“Oh come on, no is no Sungie now please go to sleep.” The father tried to settle down again, but his son wasn’t having it. 

“But Dad, look, that man is awake. Let’s ask him if we can sit by the window,” he said, and through his half open eyes Minho saw a small finger pointing at him.

“Jisung we can’t just ask people to do that at this time,” said the man exasperatedly, turning to look at Minho and noticing his limbs shifting like a person who’d just woken up from a bad nights sleep. 

“Please Dad,” whined the boy.

“Jisung no-“

Minho felt bad for the father; he could sense his exhaustion at having to say no to his son so much. He knew the son wouldn’t give in so he decided to open his eyes properly, sit up and speak to the man.

“It’s okay,” he started, noticing that his voice was still gravelly with sleep. “He can just sit on my lap.” The man looked up at him at the sound, eyes widening and hand grabbing the shirt of his son, who had let out a small cheer, to stop him from moving.

“No no, don’t bother,” he said, shaking his other hand. “I’m so sorry to have woken you.”

“Please don’t worry about that,” insisted Minho. “And do let me take him, it’s no problem,” he continued, reaching out and picking the boy up, placing him on his lap gingerly. He might have been planning on dozing back off again but the child’s father seemed to need it more, and who didn’t like a taste of parenthood every now and then.

“Well, um, thanks I guess,” said the man, rubbing his neck and giving a sheepish smile. “The name is Chan by the way, and- uh- if he gets too much just wake me up.” Minho nodded and with that, Chan hesitantly turned away and lay his head down on the shoulder of the woman next to him, his light snores filling the air not even seconds later.

Minho took that as his cue, looking down at the boy on his lap to see him fidgeting shyly. He had been enthusiastic to sit by the window earlier but he was now looking a little nervous, clearly having expected his father to have swapped seats with Minho instead.

Minho knew that he should try striking up a small conversation with the boy, but on the other hand, he was a little wary of the whole ordeal. He’d never really known how to deal with kids, despite having been told by many an aunt that he had a strange affinity for children- almost worrying they said. “He’s the pied piper I’m telling you, the kids can’t get enough of him,” and “It’s that handsome face, children have an eye for beauty,” were some of the passing comments he’d overheard on the occasional family get together, and he just prayed that Jisung would find that strange pied piper within him too.

“Hi, your name is Jisung?” he finally spoke, attempting to warm up to the boy.

“Yeah...” Jisung muttered, looking down at his lap.

“Well, my name is Minho, and I’m twenty one years old. How old are you?” he asked, making sure his voice didn’t become that high pitched thing everyone who wasn’t a parent used when talking to children. It was such a classic mistake- children loved to be talked to like an equal and that voice, the voice, just belittled them. Where he knew that, he had no clue. It must have been the pied piper- or Reader’s Digest.

“I’m five,” said Jisung voice still quiet.

“Wow, you’re a big boy aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, and I’m turning six in one month and,” he stuck his fingers out, counting in his head on them, “one month and fifty days.” Minho laughed.

“That’s really nice,” he said, “And you seem to be quite clever. Do you like maths?”

“No,” said Jisung, shaking his head.

“Oh really? So I’m guessing you like sports?” Jisung’s face lit up.

“Yes, I really like cricket,” he said. “Me and my dad watch it all the time at home on the TV.”

“That’s nice,” Minho smiled. “Does your mum like cricket too?”

“No, Mum doesn’t like sports. She only watches the Olympics because of gymnastics. And then her face goes really annoyed and she talks to my dad about girls wearing tight clothes and risking their bodies for silly things.” Minho laughed at this.

“She does now? Well I’m sure she has her reasons.”

“That’s what dad says whenever I ask him. I want to know the reasons too.”

“Well you’ll have to wait for him to tell you,” replied Minho. “Do you have any brothers or sisters.”

“Yes, a little sister. She’s a tiny baby.”

“Aw that’s nice, where is she now?”

“With my Grandma, she’s going to take care of her till we get back.”

“Ah okay. By the way Jisung, do you know where we’re actually going?” inquired Minho. He wasn’t wholly sure what he’d get out of the boy but it had to be more than what he knew.

“We’re going with the marching band.”

“I know that Jisung, but why?”

“I think for a competition. Last time we came there were lots and lots of bands and they all played music. Our team got a trophy.” 

“Oh wow, okay,” said Minho, intrigued. To be honest, he felt a little uneducated and stupid at not having known any of this, but you learn something new everyday don’t you? 

“Have you never been to one?” asked Jisung, looking up.

“No I haven’t, I actually didn’t know they existed.”

“Really? Well you’ll get to see one tomorrow. You’re going to watch right?” asked Jisung hopefully.

“No I don’t think I will...” trailed off Minho, feeling a twinge of guilt at Jisung’s fallen smile. He was definitely curious about the event now, but if he was planning on getting to his brother Hyunjin’s place in time to surprise him he couldn’t afford any detours. 

Episode 4  
“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What in heaven’s name is this?”

“Is something wrong with the bus?”

“Yes something’s wrong with the bus you bloody genius, don’t you see that smoke?” 

Minho stirred, loud voices filling his head and rousing him from his slumber. He yawned and stretched his arms as best he could before remembering the boy on his lap, who was fast asleep, his fluffy hair askew and his little nose pink. He and Jisung must have fallen asleep at one point in the morning. 

It took him a few more moments of rubbing his eyes and complaining to himself about the cramps in his shoulders before he realised that the bus wasn’t moving. Before he could voice his concerns, however, the antique earring woman, who had apparently been outside before, entered the bus and announced that the stupid old man who was driving didn’t know anything about the darn mechanism of this rusty old vehicle. 

“Even if we call the ruddy services they’re gonna take about an hour to get here, and the competition is in two. We can’t afford that,” she concluded. She looked the most distressed she had the whole trip, which was saying something since right now the only sign of it was the slight irritation in her usually impassive voice. 

It took Minho a few more waking moments to realise what was going on, and that if there was something wrong with the bus, he could be of use, as well as get a leg stretch out of it.

“Uhm, excuse me,” he started, carefully shuffling Jisung onto his tired looking father’s lap and rising. “I’ve got a degree in automotive engineering, I could take a look at the engine and see if it’s something repairable.”

“Engineer are you?” said the woman, looking at Minho scrutinisingly through her glasses.

“Yes,” replied Minho, slightly daunted by her gaze.

“You graduated from this country?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago?”

“This year.” The woman let out a small tch at this.

“Well we don’t seem to have much choice, show us what you got,” she replied, not sparing Minho another glance and sitting down abruptly. At the go to, Minho squeezed through the narrow gap between the seats, apologising profusely as he trod on some toes and jumpers here and there. Once he made it out of the squeaky folding door, the first thing that hit him was the heat.

It was warm; uncannily warm and dry for this part of the world and it’s lush green hills and damp days. The road they had stopped on was a main motorway and there were cars zipping past them, the sunlight glinting off their metal exteriors. For once he actually wished for a cloud.

Suddenly, a man approached him from behind the bus. He was old and shrivelled, but there was a firmness with which he hobbled, his peeling trainers dragging across the asphalt. 

“Hey, who are you?” he started, stopping in front of Minho.

“I’m Lee Minho. Are you the driver?” asked the young man, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked at him more carefully.

“Yes I’m the bloody driver, why you asking?” the man replied.

“I’m an engineer you see, so I thought I’d take a look at the bus and see if it was something I could fix. I heard you weren’t too sure about what to do.”

“Weren’t too sure,” snorted the man, “I’ve been driving this bus for twenty years and never have I had to even open it’s blasted bonnet, why should I go to the trouble of knowing what to do.” 

Minho wanted to retaliate and say that twenty years of not opening the bonnet had probably led to this but he stayed quiet, giving a sympathetic smile and taking the bus keys from the man to access the engine. When he did, he was met with smoke, far more than what he’d seen earlier and had passed off as pollution. It was dense and black and was lifting from the engine in a mass of induced blindness, and Minho had to wait a minute for it to clear.

The only problem was that it didn’t. It just became heavier and heavier and it took Minho much too long to realise what the issue was.

“Oh fuck-“ he cried, jumping back and rushing into the bus. His loud footsteps made everyone look up at him quizzically.

“What’s the matter Mr Engineer,” said the antique earring woman, finally showing some concern in a form other that irritation.

“You all have to get off the bus right now, there’s a fused wire and the engine is probably gonna go up in flames if I can’t find it and cut it.”

“Flames?” exclaimed Changbin.

“Yes, flames,” said Minho. 

“Shit, I’m gonna fucking die,” cried the boy, jumping up and scurrying out of the bus before anyone else had even had the chance to register what Minho had said.

“Get off the bloody bus,” repeated Minho, exasperated by the lack of reaction. It took only that to have the two women in charge stand up hastily, and yell patience to the people, who had immediately risen in panic but had reseated themselves. After some curt instruction, they started to leave row by row in an orderly fashion and Minho was quite impressed by the whole ordeal. He understood exactly why Changbin had been so taken by the group, but he didn’t have time to think more of that right now.

Minho hopped off the bus amongst the other people and ran over to the drivers seat, hoisting himself up. He scrambled around on the floor of the passenger seat and found a toolbox, snapping it open and rummaging through it as fast as he could. It took only a few moments before he found some pliers, and he grabbed them before getting out. 

As he walked towards the engine, however, he realised that actually finding the wire would be the real issue. The air around the engine was so filled with smoke that he could see nothing, and an awoken Jisung approaching him was not helping.

“Minho, what happened,” asked the boy, looking up at Minho with his big brown eyes and grabbing the older’s trouser leg.

“I’ll tell you later Jisung,” replied Minho, pushing the boy away gently and trying to blow the smoke out of his way. The people from the bus were all outside now, either watching Minho struggle or fanning themselves with their shirts.

“But-“ 

“For fucks sake, come here Sungie,” came a voice as someone approached the boy and swept him up, carrying him away. Minho might have been far too occupied right now to thank whoever had taken the boy but was about to whip round and correct their langue in front of the child when- 

“Oh god yes,” breathed out the young man. He had found the fused wire. 

Minho reached out to grab it, wincing at the heat of the area as he took the pliers and cut through the wire. Once done, he moved back and waited for the smoke to clear, praying there wasn’t another issue as well that he’d missed. 

It took a good five minutes but the smoke did clear. Minho let out a sigh of relief. 

“Okay, there’s no danger now,” he announced, “But this bus isn’t going to run. You’re gonna have to call services to pick it up and take it to some workshop.”

“Oh good god,” sighed the whistle woman, turning to the antique earring woman, “What the hell do we do now?” 

“Well we’re about a little under an hours walk away, I think we can make it.”

“But the luggage and instruments.”

“We just need to register for now,” said the girl from yesterday, Hye, approaching the women. She was carrying Jisung in her arms and Minho figured that she was the one who had whisked him away earlier. “If we walk, we get there on time and the bus can come later.”

“But it’s gonna be damn hot,” said a short, stout girl with brown hair in unbecoming tight curls, standing next to Hye.

“Oh shut your fucking mouth Patty,” said Hye, rolling her dark eyes before speaking to the two women in charge. “Well, what do you think?”

“I mean it seems about all we can do,” sighed the whistle woman. 

“Spiffing,” said Hye as Patty let out a long groan. “I’ll let everyone else know.” She made a motion to walk away, but Jisung let out a small cry and told her stop.

“Put me down, I want to go to Minho,” he said, pointing at the sweating boy. Hye turned to face Minho, giving him a queer look before setting Jisung down on the floor and moving to inform everyone else of the plan.

“What’s up Jisung? You wanna know what happened right?” started Minho, bending down to pick up the boy.

“Yeah, what was all the... you know... smoke.” 

“Well there was a fused wire,” he explained, moving to the engine and holding up the perpetrator for Jisung to see. “That means that something went wrong in this wire and it started heating up a lot. If I didn’t cut it, it would have caught fire.”

“Fire?” exclaimed Jisung, taking the wire from Minho’s hand and looking at it carefully. “That’s scary.”

“Sure is,” said Minho, laughing a little.

“Oh there you are,” came a voice suddenly, cutting off Minho’s explanation. It was Jisung’s father, Chan, still looking somewhat tired with matted hair and a rumpled shirt- though that was everyone’s state right now. “I’ve been looking all in the bus for you and you’ve been here the whole time. Your mother has some sandwiches so come eat them now.”

“Sandwiches yes,” cried Jisung happily, jumping out of Minho’s grasp and running to his father. The man grabbed his hand and turned around, but not without giving Minho an appreciative smile, probably for taking the boy last night. Minho smiled back before straightening his shirt and wiping his wet palms on his trousers, making his way into the bus. 

Half of the people were inside, gathering their belongings and complaining about how their last bathroom stop had been in the middle of the night and they really needed to go. Honestly, Minho realised that he really needed to use the bathroom too, so he grabbed his stuff and exited the bus before stepping off the road and into some dense foliage a bit off the road. On his way there he stumbled across a distressed looking Changbin complaining about the lack of toilet paper, though Minho had never thought him to be one of hygiene. Once he’d relived himself, he made his way back to the bus. Everyone was outside now, clustered together and slathered in sunscreen.

“Got the last one,” shouted the whistle woman at seeing Minho as he stepped onto the concrete. “Let’s get moving now, come on you lot; pretend we’re practicing for the performance,”

“Yes Miss,” shouted some scattered people, whom Minho assumed to be actual members of the band, and at that they all started walking. As they went, lugging their shoes along the gritty ground and trying to admire the expanse of fields and green around them, the band marched and faux instruments played. Jisung tottered around here and there, taking occasional breaks by whining his way onto someone’s back, jumping off, and then repeating the whole performance. 

This continued this for a good half an hour, after which the band stopped marching and the sun became much hotter than before, leaving Minho with a good mind to peel of his shirt. He was about to do so when, however, he felt a presence next to him.

“So you’re an engineer?” came a voice. It was Hye, her cheeks flushed from the heat. She looked decidedly tired from the marching though she was still wearing a judgmental expression on face.

“Uh, yeah I am,” said Minho.

“Why?” she asked. Minho looked at her, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s gotta be more interesting things to do than fix machines,” she shrugged.

“Well it’s got to be better than swearing in front of kids,” he retaliated, remembering earlier. Hye raised her eyebrows and gave him a look from the corner of her eye.

“He hears shit all the time, it doesn’t make a difference.”

“It could.”

“Nah.”

“Could.”

“What’s gotten you so jumpy?”

“What’s gotten you so defensive?” Hye rolled her eyes. 

“Fuck off,” she said. Minho grinned, giving her an overly sweet wave.

“You too.”

Episode 5  
It was evening. The whole lot of them, after having arrived in the city, had made their way to some town center and had promptly signed up for the event. After that they spent about an hour looking for food, before deciding to just find a small hotel and grab a bite there. All the while, Changbin tried to strike up conversation with Minho, failing miserably because every time they came close to something remotely like words, he found someone to tease and was off in the wink of an eye. Hye used those gaps to complain to Minho about Changbin and then Changbin would come back to Minho and complain about Hye. Throughout that, Jisung was scaring pigeons away and had also selected Minho to be his bearer, draping himself on the older’s back for about an hour.

So in conclusion, by the time the bus had arrived and they’d unpacked and bagged rooms, Minho’s legs and shoulders were impossibly sorer than before. Despite that, he had to admit that he’d enjoyed the whole day. It was refreshing to have people other stressed college students to talk to, and even more so when he didn’t have the constant pressure of making sure his conversation was intellectually up to mark. He had to thank Changbin and Jisung for that; Hye passed so many snide remarks that he’d had to turn his cogs plenty when she was around.

To top that off, he was also very sure that the purse Hye had “accidentally forgotten” in his hand earlier was done to keep his cogs turning too, even more so when he knocked on her door and she opened it, immediately grabbing his shirt and pulling him in without a seconds glance before shoving him against the wall. Minho looked down at her with raised eyebrows.

“Your... purse?” he asked, dangling it in front of her. She just let out a loud sigh.

“Oh come on,” she groaned.

“All right all right,” laughed Minho, flinging the purse away and putting his hands on her hips. “May I know what this is about, my fair lady?” Hye rolled her eyes, but still spoke.

“I could use some stress relief you know, big day tomorrow,” she said, trailing a hand into Minho’s hair. The latter grinned.

“It seems I can be of service?” Hye snorted.

“I wouldn’t have given you an excuse to come here otherwise.”

Episode 6  
There was a knock on the door and Hye groaned, pulling the sheet to cover herself properly before yelling. She and Minho were lying on the double bed, cheeks flushed and chests heaving slightly.

“Yeah what?” she said.

“Let me bloody in Hye,” came a voice from the other side of the door, knocking again. It sounded a lot like Changbin.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you lost the card you moron.”

“Yeah but- oh wait I found it.” Hye snorted.

“So hopeless you are.”

“Fuck off,” said the person as a clicking sound rang out and the door swung open. 

It was Changbin. 

Minho looked over at Hye quizzically at this, but before he could say anything, the teenager’s voice rang out again.

“What the actual fuck is this,” he cried, eyes widening as they landed on the two in the bed. “Fucking hell man, was it really necessary to have sex with my sister of all people?” Minho looked at him, surprised.

“She’s your sister?” he asked. After all this time something else he didn’t know.

“Yes she’s my sister.”

“For real? But you guys look noth-“

“Nothing alike yes I know,” said Hye, rolling her eyes.

“We get that too much,” said Changbin, walking over to a suitcase in the room and pulling some clothes out. “Now I’m gonna go get changed in Chan’s bathroom in case you guys decide to do the nasty again.”

“Don’t bother,” said Minho, “I think I’ll just head out now.” He looked over at Hye to see her passively picking at something on her hand, and he took that as a cue to grab his shirt from the floor and pull it on, rising from the bed.

“See you then,” said Hye from behind him, clearly waiting for her brother to leave the room before she got up.

“Yeah bye,” replied Minho, pulling the rest of his clothes on quickly and leaving, clicking the door shut behind him. Not even seconds after, he heard Hye’s shrill voice and Changbin’s gravelly one arguing. Of course they were siblings, how could he have not figured it out.

He started to make his was down the hall, and was about to turn a corner, however, when he heard some soft footsteps running behind him. He turned around to see Jisung approaching him, barefoot and in his pyjamas, clutching a stuffed cat.

“Minho, I was looking for you,” he said, reaching the older boy and halting.

“Looking for me?” asked Minho. 

“Yeah, I wanna go to sleep with you,” he said, holding out his arms to be picked up. Minho felt his heart warm at the words, and he leaned down to hoist the boy up by his waist.

“Even if you wanna sleep with me Jisung we’re still gonna have to ask your parents about it,” he pointed out.

“I’ve got this,” said Jisung, holding up a piece of paper. Minho took it, adjusting the boy so that he could hold him with one arm and the paper with the other.

“He wouldn’t let me say no, I’m so sorry for imposing again,” read the note. It was signed by Chan. Minho laughed softly.

“Okay then kiddo,” he said, turning round and starting to walk to his room, Jisung wrapping his arms around his neck and laying his head on Minho’s shoulder.

“You smell funny,” he said suddenly, sniffing Minho’s shirt. The older boy laughed sheepishly, a twinge of guilt running through him. He knew exactly what it was the kid could smell. 

“It’s noth-“

“And what’s this?” interrupted Jisung, poking Minho’s neck. Minho winced. He’d poked a hickey Hye had left on him; he’d forgotten to tell her to not. “Oh no, does it hurt?” asked Jisung, his voice laced with concern at Minho’s reaction.

“No not much,” replied the young man, shifting Jisung to the other side of his body so that he couldn’t see it anymore.

“What is it?” asked Jisung. “It wasn’t there before.”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Minho, stopping at his door and pulling the key card out of his pocket. Jisung exclaimed at the sight of it, forgetting about his inquiry.

“Wait wait, can I do it?” he asked.

“Sure,” smiled Minho, letting the boy down and giving him the card. He swiped it, failing a few times but jumping up happily when he got it right. Minho laughed and hushed him in, telling him to wait on the bed for a second while he got ready for bed. 

As he showered, he could hear Jisung talking to himself just outside the bathroom door. Minho hadn’t expected it, but he’d made pretty good acquaintances with the people here, if a five year old boy and having sex with a grumpy girl counted, and he was slightly upset at knowing he’d never see them again. He just loved how this one bus of people showed such a different dynamic to life, and honestly, maybe getting a job wasn’t the first thing he needed to do. He shook his head at the thought though, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair.

Eventually he wrapped up his bathroom session, changing and leaving the room. Jisung had fallen asleep on the bed, arms wrapped around his cat. Minho reached forward to brush the hair from his face before pulling the bedsheets down and gently picking up the boy, placing him on the mattress. He adjusted him so that his head was on the pillow and he was covered enough by the blanket. Minho then slid under the sheets too, turning off the lamp and settling down. He felt Jisung stir in front of him and he couldn’t help the joy rising in him as the boy snuggled into his chest. Minho smiled and petted Jisung’s hair until he too fell asleep.

Episode 7  
He knew he’d told Jisung and the others that he wasn’t going to attend the actual competition, but here he was, standing behind the rail waiting for the bands to march. The place was packed and was something in between a formula one track and a fair ground, with a raised area for the crowd to watch from. It had taken a lot of squeezing and apologies to get through the said area and to the rails, from where he could properly see all the bands in the clearing below. Hyunjin, whom he had successfully surprised in the morning, had fallen back halfway through Minho’s stampede to go find food, though the younger man couldn’t care less about eating as he scanned the ground for a certain group of people. 

“Oh wow, you decided to come did you?” came a voice from behind him. Minho turned around, scanning the faces before seeing Chan approach, clutching a beer and grinning at him.

“Fancy finding you out of all these people,” called Minho, crinkling his eyes.

“I swear,” said Chan, coming up to Minho and standing next to him, leaning on the rail. “Thanks for taking Jisung last night by the way, he’s got such a mind of his own and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Hey no issue, he’s really the sweetest thing,” said Minho. “Where are they by the way?”

“They’re there,” replied Chan, nodding to a group on the far left. Minho looked closely in the area, squinting before, spotting some familiar faces. 

There was Hye with a cymbal attached to a rope hung around a her neck, adjusting Changbin’s collar and grumbling. Then there was the whistle woman, giving what looked like a motivational speech while holding Jisung’s hand to stop him from hitting the drums. The boy was wearing a bear onesie and Chan told Minho that he’d insisted that he would be a better mascot than their usual stuffed dragon. Minho laughed.

“You think he’d hear me from here?” he asked Chan.

“You can try,” shrugged the man, taking a sip of beer.

“By your permission,” said Minho, before putting his hands to his mouth and yelling a “Hey Jisung.” He doubted the boy would hear above the volume of the crowd but after a few more calls, Jisung’s head turned and he looked quizzically at the masses of people before spotting the origin of the sound.

“Minho!” he shouted, waving enthusiastically. Minho waved back, grinning as Jisung ran over to Changbin, poking his thigh before speaking to him and pointing in Minho’s general direction. Changbin looked up, face lighting at seeing Minho. He turned to tell Hye as well, but she seemed to have already noticed, and had given Minho a small wave before turning away to give what seemed like a pep talk to some of the younger members. And all the while Jisung kept waving

In that moment, Minho couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his face. He had to conclude: that nightmare of a bus ride was worth it, and he could definitely get used to marching band life, even if it was just as motivation from behind a railing.

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wrote this with original characters plus Minho but toddler Jisung and father Chan? I couldn’t resist.


End file.
